


Working Out Love Languages and Speaking Plainly in a Common Tongue

by Diary



Category: The Halcyon (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Declarations Of Love, Families of Choice, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Honesty, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Male Friendship, POV Toby Hamilton, Romance, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: AU. In which Adil insists on feeding Toby, Toby insists on giving socks, and the situation with D'Abberville is handled a little differently. Complete.
Relationships: Toby Hamilton/Adil Joshi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Working Out Love Languages and Speaking Plainly in a Common Tongue

_I wish I could stay here forever._

Toby Hamilton knows it’s a ridiculous thought.

Undoubtedly, his mother would not only refuse to accept him suddenly deciding to move into Adil’s flat, she’d also _wonder_ certain things such as why, who Adil is, and what horrible, unnatural things might be behind such a decision; if he were to suddenly stay over at a fellow aristocrat’s family estate, she likely wouldn’t blink an eye, but in her mind, there can be no reason he’d ever associate with someone of Adil’s class, especially of Adil’s race and religion, to the point of sharing a flat with them without something untoward being behind it.

Freddie would wonder, too, the first, at least; there’s a chance, he has to believe, his brother would not be horrified if he were to ever find out certain things.

Aside from his family and the rest of society, there’s also Adil’s family to consider. He’d asked if they knew about Adil, and Adil had answered, ‘Some of them. It’s not a good thing to talk about.’

He wishes he knew if the ones who know are accepting and if it’s fear of how the ones who don’t know might react that makes it not a good thing to talk about.

Everyone has a right to privacy, he knows. Adil will answer almost any question, and he’s always honest.

With him, at least. Adil might have to lie to his family and co-workers, too.

He can’t talk about his work, but Adil often talks about his.

Without these considerations in play, as comfortable as he is right now, in other instances, he’d prefer his bed at the Halcyon to Adil’s too-small for Adil, never mind the both of them, one with this lumpy, hard mattress.

But, his mind can’t help but think, if his mother were content to turn a blind eye, if Freddie could possibly be happy for him, if Adil’s family weren’t a huge barrier, if he and Adil could get a slightly bigger flat with a bed big enough for them that had a comfortable mattress-

“Here.” A gentle kiss is pressed against his forehead, and Adil moves against his arms.

“Stay.”

Wiggling away, leaving coldness in his wake, Adil says, “I need to make breakfast.”

A robe is handed to him, and wishing he’d been smarter about keeping more than his undershirt and pants near the bed, at the very least, if he’d brought his shoes to it instead of leaving them beside the door, he says, “I could get mine at-”

“Toby, we’ve been through this.”

This is only the second time he’s been here. The first time, his clothes had been nearer to the bed, but Adil had grabbed his shoes and refused to set them down until he himself had sat down at Adil’s table.

“There’s going to be less food for you.”

Rationing hasn’t particularly affected him.

Unsophisticated taste, his mother has bemoaned more than once, and Freddie’s joked he’d have a better time being an officer than Freddie when it came to mealtimes. He’s never been much for sweets, drank almost any tea served with little thought towards it, never liked milk except for in his coffee, and he was never a difficult child to get to eat most vegetables. Decent meat is the only thing he’s found himself truly missing at times, but he’s luckier in still managing to obtain it than many are, he knows.

Adil has too-bare cabinets. No icebox. On occasion, he can get extra food at the Halcyon, but-

The shrug Adil gives is both beautiful in the gracefulness of the movement and utterly infuriating.

“Besides, I never provide breakfast for you when you stay with me.”

“No, you force socks on me that you refuse to take back even when I have a perfectly good pair of socks with me,” is the cheerful reply.

“You need clean socks for your prayers. And I have more than enough to spare.”

It’s a fascinating oddity. He gets cold so easily, yet, his feet aren’t particularly affected more than the rest of him, whereas, Adil is a combination of unbothered and simply non-registering of colder temperatures except for where his feet are concerned. He can’t sleep, or at least, can’t comfortably fall asleep, without socks on, and his bare feet need to be covered even when the weather isn’t cold.

At the stove, Adil’s glance over is filled with clear scepticism.

He could probably convince Adil he’s not mistaken about the overabundance of socks he has, that he gave plenty to charity and the war effort without making any real dent in the quantity of them before he started giving them to Adil, but- He was a privileged child, he knows. He always had wonderful gifts during his birthday and Christmas. Their mother always got him and Freddie small gifts during Easter and Valentine's Day.

Besides her and Freddie, however, books and socks were what most people gifted him. The books, he asked for. The socks- well, a book or several wasn’t enough, and since his mother was already getting him a big gift…

Adil has made it clear Adil thinks family besides his father treated him unfairly, that it’s sad his schoolmates were never particularly close to him outside of school.

Everyone besides his father would have happily given him almost anything he asked for, he knows. It would have been a relief. They were uncomfortable giving Freddie nice presents like other boys got, he’s come to realise, while giving him books, socks, and occasionally, fancy pens and paper.

As for his schoolmates, there were times they tried. But he was always too wary, preferring the safety of the worlds found in his books to the intimacy that might have them discovering- he didn’t know what back then, not consciously.

He didn’t desire girls, women, and if the thought he might be homosexual ever crossed his mind, he quickly banished it along with the memory of it.

“Move over,” Adil says.

He does, and setting a plate on his lap, Adil hands him a mug.

Two eggs for him, two for Adil, a small portion of diced potatoes for both, a piece of toast for each, and his definitely has more margarine than Adil’s does. He should have been paying more attention than getting lost in his thoughts, it’s possible four eggs was all Adil had, that this small bit of potatoes was all, that this extra slice of bread will shorten Adil’s supply for the week, and he doubts he’ll be able to get near enough to the kitchen area to see for himself.

The clinking of mug against mug focuses his attention back on Adil.

‘Beautiful’ isn’t the right word, but it comes close. Beautiful is for ladies such as his mother, for things such as certain paintings of Hans Holbein the Younger, for the worlds and words used to describe them in certain fantasy books.

‘Handsome’ fits, but it’s not enough. Adil is more than merely handsome.

Adil starts to eat, and he follows suit.

“This is as wonderful as always,” he says. “Thank you.”

Warmth floods through him at the sight of Adil, mouth full, grinning.

“I’ll trade you the last of my potatoes for your last bite of toast,” Adil says.

“Agreed.”

_I wish I could stay here forever._

Yes, he says to the thought, but how do you know for sure Adil wants the same? How do you know at all?

It’s not something they’ve really discussed. He doubts Adil is seeing, _doing things with_ , anyone else, mostly because, Adil works too-long hours and often sleeps with him at night.

If Adil is, there’s no promise that’s been broken.

Once, Adil had been dead on his feet, and sneaking Adil into his room, he’d gotten him settled into bed before settling in beside him, and they’d simply slept. Since then, he’s come to understand why many married couples and lovers prefer to share a bed even when it’s only to sleep.

Bad dreams have been a consistent nuisance since the war started, but at night, when he feels Adil next to him, the worry largely vanishes. All he can think, feel, really, is how nice it is, how it wishes it could be like this all the time, how truly lucky he is.

“What are you thinking?”

“That I might love you.”

There’s a few seconds when he hopes, thinks, he might have just thought that, but seeing Adil’s face- no, he said that aloud. He’s sitting in an undershirt and his pants with his shoes across the room, and he said-

Jerking at the feel of his a hand on his arm, the plate clatters to the floor, but Adil’s hand stops him from going towards it.

“It’s okay,” is the gentle statement before a firmer order of, “Stay,” is given.

Getting up, Adil deftly steps over the plate, and getting a broom-

The shame makes his throat burn and his stomach twist. No matter what Adil might say, he’ll need to find a way to-

“Toby, my mother gave these to me specifically, because, it doesn’t much matter if they get broken. I startled you.”

When Adil sits back down, he manages to say, “Still, I’m sorry. I- Oh, God.”

“It’s a plate,” Adil says, and it’s such a perfect mixture of teasing and concern that he finds himself laughing.

Then, Adil kisses him, and everything inside begins to settle.

“I need to tell you something, and I need you to believe me.”

The words are so serious, so- haunting, almost, that he knows it’s not about what he himself just said.

“Of course. Of course, I will, Adil. I trust you more than- in some ways, I trust you even more than Freddie. You certainly know me in ways he never will.”

It occurs to him how this sounds, but even beyond knowing in the intimate way of lovers, he’s told Adil things he’s unlikely to ever tell Freddie. He’s sure Freddie’s told Emma things Freddie’s unlikely to ever tell him.

His worry and confusion grows when Adil takes a deep, slightly shaky breath.

“Mister D'Abberville has been threatening me. He’s demanded I tell him things about you. Get information about your job for him.”

Adil has a way of- things suddenly make sense whenever Adil is near him, and this is usually a good thing.

He’s been more-or-less happy to turn a blind eye to his mother’s affair; it’s not as if his father deserves a widow’s grief. As far as he knows, she was always faithful to his father, and his father certainly didn’t return this.

Besides, he’d believed D’Abberville was sympathetic to him and Adil.

Now, though, the lonely widow who was lonely before she even became a widow, the woman with the prized son who could die (please, dear God, don’t take Freddie) and the outcast son who’s too surly, too awkward, unlikely to ever marry, the son with the government job, the son he has a secret to use against whenever he feels it necessary.

He doesn’t have any of his work here in Adil’s flat, but he’s had it in his room when Adil was there. He’s gone to the bathroom, more than this, he’s left Adil all alone in the room, and what information, what work, did he have during those times?

“Toby? Will you talk to me?”

“What have you told him so far?”

“Not much. How you like your tea, that you have bad dreams sometimes, that- he’s gotten impatient. He wanted me to get numbers from a report he’d said you’d have with you.”

“And have you given him any of these numbers?”

“No, Toby,” his hand is grabbed, “I haven’t gone through any of your papers.”

Moving his hand out of Adil’s grasp, he reflects it’d be hypocritical if he had unkind thoughts about his mother’s taste in men. She and Father were an arranged marriage in all but name, and as much as he doesn’t like the thought, as much as his feelings all rebel about it, there’s a good chance Adil, though nowhere near as bad as D’Abberville, is an example of his own poor judgement.

Some part of him knows he’ll regret it, but he still finds himself saying, “Nothing forced you to stay when I had that nightmare, least of all me,” and it sounds horribly waspish to his own ears.

“Toby, please-”

“Was that what this was all about?”

“No.” He watches Adil get down on the floor, and as much as he wants to look away, Adil’s eyes are almost trance-inducing. “Toby, I love you. It’s not something I think, and I understand if-”

“Get up, you don’t know there aren’t still shards of plate down there.” Pulling Adil up, he quickly checks his knees and legs.

“I have to go. Do you realise that, if you had given him any information from the work I had with me, you would have been guilty of committing treason? Him trying this, it _is_ treason. My mother’s possibly falling in love with a traitor. I’ve always wanted to call Emma my sister, but I’m starting to think, where are my bloody socks, Freddie had the right idea in-”

“Toby-”

Shaking the hand away, he says, “Don’t touch me.”

Even if he’d never asked, if Adil had never told him, he would have known Adil had experience before him. Even beyond the knowledge Adil had about certain things men can do with one another and how to do them with ease and minimal discomfort, the way Adil touched him, the way Adil reacted to his touch, Adil’s sure, almost practised movements, they told the story: You’re not the first.

Adil hadn’t given names but had told about these past experiences.

One night (was this before or after D’Abberville caught them?), they’d both been a bit tipsy, and laying panting against him, Adil had said, “You’re the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, Toby.”

Finishing getting dressed, he tells the desperate part of himself to stop trying to figure out when that night was. Either Adil meant it or he didn’t; either way, if he manages to get himself and his family through this, there won’t- there can’t be him and Adil anymore. If there’s ever another man, he’ll have to be much, much more discreet, and he can’t ever be this stupid again.

Love is for those such as Freddie and Emma.

“I love you,” Adil’s quiet words hit him like ice.

“Why didn’t you tell me right after he made his threats?”

“Because, he threatened my family. Toby, please, understand that, while it’d be bad for me to lose my job, that wouldn’t put them in immediate danger. But if they were targeted rather than just me by someone such as Mister D’Abberville-” Adil trails off.

He finds himself feeling sympathy, and some part of him doesn’t want to, but he’s ashamed of that part. Yes, he _does_ understand. He knows why Adil’s family came here in the first place, he knows how honest citizens with their skin, of their religion, can easily be targeted by even the non-wealthy with the law often providing little-to-no relief, and he knows what will almost certainly happen if they’re forced to leave Britain, especially during this time of war.

“I am sorry about that. I’ll try my best to make sure they don’t get hurt in all this. But I can’t let him get away with this. He’ll find another way to procure official secrets if he’s not stopped, and I can’t let him harm my mother.”

“I can help you,” Adil says. “We can come up with a plan-”

“Oh, what use would you be,” he snaps, and as painful as the look on Adil’s face is, he’s not going to apologise. “Your brilliant idea when we first got into this mess was to see yourself possibly thrown in prison, to definitely, at least, have yourself fired with your reputation ruined. That might not have ruined your family, but it most certainly wouldn’t have _protected_ them in anyway.”

“It would have kept you safe. Your future.”

“This-” Realising the last thing either of them needs is for any of Adil’s neighbours to hear is yelling, he takes a deep breath. Then, at the memory of Adil getting him to breathe properly soon after D’Abberville saw them together, remembering, _please_ , _for me,_ he does equations in his head. “This isn’t just about me. If I had to, I’d choose my family over your family, but that doesn’t mean yours aren’t important to me. They’re yours. You’re theirs.”

And I love you just as they do, his mind adds, but thankfully, based on Adil’s utter lack of a reaction, he likely _didn’t_ say this aloud.

“Self-sacrifice, find a new answer to things, Adil. Whatever the right term for us is, we’re not- You placing me above you when it comes to such big things, that isn’t acceptable. You sharing the too-little food you have, that’s one thing, but when it comes to this- I’m not angry you tried to save yourself. I’m angry at the way you did it.”

“Toby-”

“You are clever, Adil. Better at analysing people than I ever will be. Your lack of much formal education doesn’t mean you haven’t gathered so much knowledge. And to top it all off, you’re much better under pressure than I am. I’ve seen it. So, you thinking that committing,” and a word he’s never said outside of boyhood gatherings when no adults were nearby falls out of his mouth, “ _treason_ , helping someone who is clearly an opportunistic traitor, even if you couldn’t care less about me, how did that possibly strike you as a good idea?”

“Because.” Caution and carefulness clear in every line of his body, Adil moves closer to him. “I thought I could handle this without having to involve you. That I could do something about him without you having to know. That, somehow, you wouldn’t be hurt. It was foolish, perhaps-”

“There’s no ‘perhaps’ about it,” he states.

“Very well. Have you ever loved someone who didn’t love you?”

The question utterly confuses him.

“Or just someone who you didn’t know how they truly felt? Toby, you’re a man of actions. I know you care about me, that you enjoy my company outside of bed, that you trust me, or did. But I didn’t know- There are times you’ll have this look on your face, and during those times, I’d’ve given almost anything to know what you were thinking.”

“I’ve asked,” Adil continues. “And you’d kiss me or wrap around me or, occasionally, make a joke. I didn’t know whether you were wishing I were someone else or thinking about some report or-”

He has to move away. “That’s the kind of man you think I- No, Adil, I never lied in bed with you and wished you were someone else. I suppose I shouldn’t be insulted by you thinking I might have been thinking of _reports_ , but- how could I, after what we’d done? Even the times when it was simply us lying in bed, not having done anything, not about to-”

But then, in fairness, he does remember he was once working on some non-classified paperwork in bed with Adil dozing beside him. He’d had the papers spread out on the bed and was using a tray to write on, and Adil had eventually given up on trying to press against him. Still, settled on his side of the bed, Adil had woken every time he’d gotten out of bed for something.

“Toby, please, don’t take this as an insult. I have far more options than you do. I work less hours than you, and I can go home after my shifts. You live in the place your mother owns and stays at. Your brother stays there when he’s not on duty. Not many of your schoolmates are stopping by with the war going on. I kissed you, and you realised men were an option for you. I kissed you, and there I was.”

Feeling his stomach twist, he shakes his head. “That’s not how it is, was. Not for me.”

His jealousy at the thought Adil might have been with others after the kiss, his hurt, wondering if, more options aside, he was simply deemed the best for the time, well, what does it matter if Adil has, if he was?

“If you love someone, you try to protect them,” Adil says. “Call what I did foolish, but if I could help it, you weren’t going to risk yourself out of some sense of duty, some idea about fairness. You’ve never treated me as a servant when we’re together. Most men in your station would. But you,” something close to a laugh but one with no mirth to it comes out of Adil, “you talking about self-sacrifice as if you aren’t even more guilty of it than I am is funny.”

“You always try to do right by people, always try to ensure any possible debts you might have possibly accrued are fully settled.”

Something inside clicks, and pieces of information in his brain start to come together.

An outsider likely would have realised this sooner, Adil has been more-or-less saying this the whole time, but it hadn’t been in explicit enough words.

Never mind self-sacrifice, lives have been saved by him breaking codes, codes that were designed to not be understood by those without, at least, some basic knowledge of the creator or creators, but this man who’s seen him naked as the day he was born, this man he’s seen completely naked, this man he’s kissed and licked and touched the most private places of, this man who’s touched and licked and kissed his most private places, he almost didn’t see.

It produces an urge to laugh in him, too, but tapering that down with a deep breath, he says, “I want to make sure I’m right about this. I said I loved you, and that’s what made you decide I had the right to be part of this problem that involves me. Because, in your mind, people have the right to protect loved ones, but they don’t have the right to risk themselves for people they don’t.”

“Might,” Adil says. “‘I think I might love you.’ That’s what you said. And not exactly, no. If it’s their job, if they’re like your brother and choose such a path, then, I have great respect for them. Otherwise, though, someone who doesn’t love me, yes, I’d rather go to prison, lose my job, whatever the consequences might be than have them hurt in such a big way due to me. Especially if I do love them.”

“We both should be at work right now,” he realises aloud. “We need to call in, make excuses. This needs to be settled now.”

“Yes,” Adil says.

…

He finds himself sitting back on Adil’s bed.

They’re not touching, but Adil is sitting so close he can practically feel him.

“It wasn’t just about protecting you,” Adil says. “Or my family. You don’t understand how guilty I’ve felt, Toby. So guilty. I know this is selfish, but I knew there likely wasn’t any way this could end without us ending. I knew, if you found out, you’d be angry. Disgusted. I knew you’d wonder if it was real on my part, the way you are now.”

“I just wanted as much time as I could get before it happened. But when you said what you did this morning, I couldn’t keep lying. If there was a chance you’d forgive me, a chance you could come to trust me again, after the anger faded, a chance I might still have you- I had to tell you.”

“Toby, I swear to you-”

“We need to focus on the immediate problem at hand,” he says. “Obviously, we can’t murder or imprison D’Abberville somewhere. Whether you like it or not, if I need to tell my mother or Freddie or one of my superiors, for the good of my country, I will. I promise, I’d try my best to keep your name completely out of things. Do you have any ideas that might work instead?”

“Well-”

He’s not sure he’s ever seen Adil so hesitant.

“Is it possible to frame someone for something they’re guilty of?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Mister D’Abberville is trying to get official secrets. What if he were found trying to get them, just in a different way than he has actually tried? Does that make sense?”

“God, you’re brilliant,” and his hands are on Adil’s face, and he’s leaning forward-

And take your hands off, Toby, he tells himself. Lean away.

“However, that’s still rather risky. A man caught in possession of official secrets, his word on everything is automatically suspect, but people would be suspicious. You and I, it’s not a completely outrageous, implausible claim.”

“You won’t like this, but: What if he paid me or blackmailed me in some other way to-”

“There’s no might about it,” he blurts out.

It’s just too much.

Seeing Adil’s confused face, he wishes this were a little more like a story within a genre where dramatic confessions can be immediately understood.

“You want to know what I was thinking? ‘I wish I could stay here forever.’ You want to know what I was thinking all those other times? That I was happy and felt safe and didn’t know how I got so lucky but that I was grateful all the same. I love you, but I also thought you could be trusted. I never lied to you. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d tried to blackmail me directly instead of going through you, but I wouldn’t have agreed to give any private information about you to him.”

Adil leans back, and his face is too painful to look at.

“Look- let’s just figure this out. We can both agree D’Abberville is an immediate threat to both of us. To both of our families. And we’re not going to let him win by seeing one of us go down with him.”

“There might not be another way,” Adil quietly says.

Closing his eyes, he remembers a chess game he once played against his grandfather. That man was even worse than his father, but the one thing he did appreciate was the fact his grandfather never simply allowed him to win. There was one game where he came so close, and he knows what he should have done. He’s just never been able to figure out why nine-year-old him _didn’t_.

“I don’t accept that, but if I did, I’d approach this logically. For all you can be sentimental, you’re capable of that as well.”

Adil scoffs. “And you’re not prone to sentimentality in the slightest, are you?”

“I recognise your tone, but no, I wouldn’t say I am.”

God knows his father would disagree; he was always too soft, too emotional, for that man’s tastes. Others, though, it’s the opposite. Even his mother and Freddie have fussed about how he’s too cold, too distant, too literal in his thinking, too stuck in his own head to notice or care about other people.

“Fine, then,” Adil throws up his hands, “let’s hear your logical reason why you should be the one sacrificed if it came to that.”

“You’re your parents’ only son, aren’t you? I’m not. I’m the youngest son. Unlike you, I don’t have any sisters. My mother’s financial security isn’t tied to either Freddie or me. Both your mother and father, their comfortable retirement is, in part, dependent on you, especially if your sisters don’t end up managing to marry, at least, somewhat above their station.”

“But let’s say they do. The children will need you. If Freddie and Emma or he and another woman have children, of course, I’d like to see them, be part of their lives, but still, it won’t be any real loss if I’m not. I’ve never gotten on very well with children even when I was a child. And again, if your sister should need help, you’d provide it. Freddie would never need such help.”

“You’re an important codebreaker,” Adil says. “A public servant who has dutifully-”

“Who foolishly- If I found out someone was taking their work home when they were also having a girlfriend over, I’d likely report them. That’s just asking for trouble. Married men often don’t take their work home even. I didn’t change my thinking. I was a single man, I was always careful to have my work with me when my room was being cleaned, unless someone came in whilst I was sleeping-”

“And, then, you happened. I didn’t stop to think. I believe you’re a good man, Adil, who’s found yourself in a desperate situation, but let’s acknowledge, if you weren’t, my carelessness would have already destroyed numerous lives.”

Adil’s voice is almost unbearably soft, “Do you regret it? You and I?”

“I regret not being more careful that night.”

Part of him wishes he could still acutely feel the anger and hurt and humiliation he felt less than an hour ago, but it’s mostly gone. Not the hurt, but in some ways, it was easier believing Adil might have just been playing him as a fool from the beginning.

Adil had annoyed him in the beginning. For all Adil had kissed first, had called him Toby, when it progressed from more than kisses, it became clear Adil was trying to figure out and fulfil his desires, almost shying away when he tried to figure out Adil’s in turn, and as he eventually said, likely blunter than he should have, he didn’t want a servant, wasn’t so desperate for carnal pleasures, that he’d resort to one.

Too blunt or not, the words had worked. Adil not only started showing him how he could give Adil as much pleasure as Adil gave him, Adil started telling him personal things, and carefully, at first, and then, easily, asking him personal questions.

Really, he should be relieved, he knows, Adil only told relatively neutral things, though, he still feels stinging in his nerves at the thought of D’Abberville knowing he has nightmares, when there are so many more personal things Adil could have divulged.

If he’s being a fool now, he’ll pay for it, without a doubt, later, but he can’t bring himself to believe Adil doesn’t care for him, that Adil is the type who’d do this even if Adil didn’t.

“I suppose it could be much worse. At least, you’re the only one. I always swore I’d be nothing like my father. I resented the fact I’d always have a cloud hanging over me if it were discovered he had that Nazi-sympathising mistress. And then, just like him, I was bloody careless.”

Just like his father, he’s been lying to everyone; just like his father, he’s been sneaking around at night or having Adil sneak around.

“Still, it’s a small comfort, though, that, well, obviously, you wouldn’t sympathise with them, but more than that, I didn’t foolishly go for any fawning person who could be bought with jewels or whatever the equivalent would be a for a man.”

“I’m keeping the socks,” Adil says, and it’s so bizarrely out of nowhere that he looks over. Giving him a painfully sad smile, Adil continues, “I just thought now’s as good a time as any to make that clear. Whatever happens with us, you gave those to me, and I’m keeping them. If I can’t, they’re going to my sisters.”

“What, do you think I’d try to demand them back?”

Adil shrugs. “I know some men would try to demand jewels back. Toby-” There’s a pause. “When you say I’m the only one, does that mean you haven’t been with anyone else?”

“You know I haven’t. We’ve discussed that very fact.”

And it hits him- if Adil told D’Abberville _that_ , then, even if they get out of this with their secret and reputations safe, he can’t be with Adil.

“Before me,” Adil says. “I mean after we became lovers.”

“No,” he answers.

“Are you going to ask me if I have?”

“No.”

The silence grows, and studying Adil’s face, he realises- “Do you want me to ask?”

He almost asks, ‘Why?’

Adil meets his eyes. “Would the answer matter to you?”

He can’t help but snap, “Why do you think I’m not asking?” Taking a deep breath, he says, “Adil, if I’m approaching this the wrong way, now isn’t particularly the time. We need to figure out what to do about D’Abberville. I didn’t make any promises to you; you didn’t make any promises to me.”

“Granted, I don’t think I’m being unreasonable in assuming there was an implicit ‘don’t give private information to someone who already has compromising information on the both of us’, but- since we became lovers, whatever you have or haven’t done with other people, if you’ve been in anyone’s bed but mine, had anyone but me in your bed, that’s not a betrayal. It’s just something I don’t particularly want to think about, especially right now.”

Making a sound, Adil says, “There hasn’t been. Toby, please, I know you’re right, this isn’t the time, but just, please, let me say this.”

It’s not as if his mind has managed to come up with anything. Telling Freddie and/or his mother are options, but- Adil would likely be found out. Maybe, Freddie would be kind, accepting, but if his mother were to ever find out, she might do horrible things to Adil. She might have him legally disowned. She might force him to accept marriage to some girl of her choosing or face dreadful consequences that may or may not involve harm to Adil.

And his chest is warm and almost too tender at hearing Adil hasn’t been with anyone else. Because Adil hasn’t wanted anyone, because Adil hasn’t had the time to find someone else, because Adil thought there was some implicit promise made about not?

“Say whatever you need to,” he says.

Adil nods. “I understand parents saying their child is mine. My Adil, my Sarita. In the past, however, I never understood people claiming other people in such a way. Our Freddie, their Emma. I was never going to be someone’s. Especially-”

He knows what Adil isn’t saying. Adil might have been willing to do much of what a lover wanted, but- He wonders if he hurt Adil, struck a blow to his pride, when he compared Adil’s focus on him as akin to a servant doing a master’s bidding.

“Someone like me,” he supplies.

“Yes and no. I’ve struggled before, Toby, with what I am, but I don’t think I’ve ever truly been ashamed. I liked all the other men I’ve been with, but ‘lovers’, it implies something I don’t think we quite were. I gave them pleasure, they gave me pleasure, and we liked each other besides that. There are some acts in bed I don’t want to do or have done to me, but I haven’t found a large number of them.”

“When it came to you, I’m not sure which came first, liking you or wanting you, but by the time I kissed you, it was both. It was a gamble, calling you ‘Toby’, but I did, and you kissed me and smiled so beautifully in response. I didn’t expect you to be selfish, not exactly, but I thought I’d be lucky to get whatever you were willing to give me, that asking for more would be an unwise move.”

“Except, then, you were so gentle, and you wanted to learn all about me. You were happy I wanted to learn about you.”

‘Gentle’, he can’t help but feel, is a polite way of saying ‘clumsy, fumbling, and unsure’.

“Do you- I once told you that you’re the best lover I’ve ever had. Do you remember that?”

“Yes, of course, I do. Not the date, but I remember you snuck up some strawberry tarts and half a bottle of wine or champagne, I don’t remember the drink, either, that night. When we went to bed, you had to bite into my shoulder to keep quiet.”

Whenever Adil gets this look in his eyes, a look like the one he currently has, he has to look away. It’s not painful to look at; it’s just- too much. It’s similar to looks he’s seen Freddie receive from their father, similar to a few memories he has of his mother looking at him until he became the exasperating disappointment.

“It was true. I meant it. But it wasn’t everything I felt. I was never going to be another person’s, belong to them, and then, that night, I became yours. Or perhaps, that’s just when I realised it. I am yours, Toby. Even if this has to be the end of us, some part of me always will be.”

He can’t bear not touching Adil any longer.

Moving over, he wraps around him, and feeling Adil shift against him, everything feels right until he also feels the fact Adil is shivering.

“Are you cold?” He suddenly fully realises Adil hasn’t gotten properly dressed.

“No.” Adil presses even closer against him. “It just feels so good to have your arms wrapped around me.”

He gives it a minute or two, and the shivering completely stops. Adil’s skin is as warm as ever.

When he was younger, as disloyal as it felt, he came to the conclusion he could have been sympathetic to his father. People shouldn’t make vows they aren’t going to keep, he’s always grasped this, but people, men and women both, have carnal urges, and they sometimes fall in love with people they shouldn’t. If his father had fallen in love with someone besides the woman he was all but forced to marry, then, he could have felt sympathy, he could have forgiven the lack of any real discretion that had him and Freddie figuring out at age thirteen that their father had a mistress.

He doubts his father ever loved any the women his father bedded. They were beautiful, all of them, he imagines, and perhaps, some of them genuinely liked his father for more than his money and titles; if so, he feels genuine pity for them. In some ways, they were more of a victim than his mother.

He’s never been sympathetic to himself when he’s found himself doing something that he could imagine his father doing or, worse, that he knows his father had. For all he sometimes wishes he could have made his father proud, that he wasn’t a disappointment, he learned when he was still a boy that he didn’t want to be the type of man his father is. Was.

This is different, he finally understands.

No, he didn’t love Adil the first time they did more than kiss, and he didn’t know, couldn’t have known, he’d fall in love with Adil, but he wasn’t married. He didn’t decide he was going to seduce some servant, and then, toss them away once he had his fun.

“Adil.”

Adil moves enough to look at him.

“I’m yours, too. I love you.”

The kiss is soft, and a shiver, relief and a little bit of sadness with hope mixed in, goes through him, too.

“I don’t want us to end. It’ll take some time for me to fully make peace with what you’ve done, especially you telling D’Abberville I have nightmares, but you told me before irrevocable harm could be done. And I do understand he’s put you in a terrible position that, well, it was both of us he caught. He might not have even gone near my mother if not for her having a son with a job like mine. You tried to handle things as best you could.”

“I am sorry, Toby.”

“It’s him who should be sorry. We’re not letting him win. He might get away with what he’s done, but he’s not getting any official secrets or seeing either of us disgraced or in jail.”

Adil curls up against him. “I promise I’ll try my best to regain your trust. I hope, one day, you’ll feel as safe as you once did with me.”

“I still trust you more than anyone else in this world.” Unable to keep his sigh in, he adds, “I just wish there was someone else we could both trust. Other people will be involved in this; it’s unavoidable. If we had some help of some kind-”

Shifting to get more comfortable, he concentrates on the feel of Adil.

“What about Mr Garland?” Moving, Adil tugs him along so that they’re lying down.

“Mr Garland?”

“It’s a risk. He’s loyal to your mother. But might he have some personal loyalty towards you outside of her?”

He doubts it.

In truth, he’s never been sure how Garland feels about him. Certainly, he’s not in the man’s good books _now_. First, he made a fool of himself after his father’s death, behaved appallingly, and now- He can’t blame Freddie, he knows what Freddie’s done was done with the best of intentions, but he also can’t deny Freddie has caused genuine heartbreak in Emma, and he’ll give Garland this: He’s everything a father should be.

Before his father’s death, however, he was never sure if Garland was treating him with gentle kindness or aloof servility. Both his parents, in different ways, obviously strained Garland’s patience at times, but Garland seemed genuinely happy at the friendship between Freddie and Emma.

Yet, Adil might be onto something. Garland might be content to help him cover up some mess without getting his mother involved on the basis his mother not knowing will make Garland’s job, his life, really, easier.

“If I go to him, I can’t give your name. I suppose, if I explained D’Abberville had private information on me that he was using to blackmail me- but still, if D’Abberville tells him what this information is, then, even if he handles D’Abberville, he’ll almost surely terminate your employment or worse.”

“Or,” Adil says, “and this isn’t self-sacrifice, Toby, he protected Kate when that Count behaved inappropriately towards her. I could tell him Mister D’Abberville has threatened me if I didn’t steal from you.”

“In which case, all D’Abberville has to do is say what exactly he threatened you with. D’Abberville might be gone, but you’re still, at the least, out of a job. Garland believed Miss Loughlin did nothing to encourage the advances. Unless you want to claim I did something similar to what he did-”

“No. Never.”

“Then, I don’t think Garland will be particularly sympathetic to either of us even if he is willing to protect me.” Unable to keep his peevishness at bay, he continues, “Oh, but I notice you were rather insistent I make such a claim against you.”

“If you had, we wouldn’t be in this position.”

Someone once said, ‘You’re never happy unless you’re the most logical person in the room, are you?’

He’s now willing to admit, whoever made that observation, wasn’t exactly wrong. When people use logic against him, logic he’s forced to admit is sound-

“Oh, shut up. Sometimes, I think you kissing me that day in the wine cellar was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The kiss surprised me, shocked me, but it wasn’t unwanted. Nothing we’ve done as lovers has been unwanted. Not to me.”

A gentle kiss is pressed into his throat. “Or me.”

They are criminals, though, all the same, and the only possible defences are coercion or mental unwellness. If he’d ever seriously thought about homosexuality before, he might have thought the laws unfair. He might have seen the ways they could cause situations such as this where people who wouldn’t break bigger, more serious laws could be forced to. He might have thought, Who cares what private matters sound-minded adults do in the discretion of their own residence?

Or if he weren’t like this, he might have found the thought of such acts so disgusting-

Even if he weren’t like this and weren’t condemning, he knows he wouldn’t ever feel any real sympathy for those like he and Adil are.

Now, if he could find a way to get those laws stricken without causing harm to his family, to Adil’s family, he would. No one deserves what they’re both going through.

“Toby-” Propping himself up on an elbow, Adil traces his face. “I don’t see much of a way we can avoid certain others finding out.”

“No, I don’t, either,” he admits.

“I’d say it doesn’t matter that you’re an important codebreaker from a rich, titled family. I made the decision a long time ago, if someone I was with were ever in danger of prison or losing their job or just being exposed, if sacrificing myself would save them, I would. I can’t in good conscience do otherwise.”

“But we both need to accept that the world needs you safe much more than it does me. We’re at war, Toby, and your work is helping us win. Yes, I’m aware how bad what Mister D’Abberville is trying to do is, how horrible me helping him would be, but whatever this says about my character, give me a choice between any country and my family, and most likely, I’ll choose them.”

Taking a deep breath, he touches Adil’s hand with his own. “I still have to try to protect you.”

“Don’t lie to Mr Garland,” Adil says. “Not telling him things, that might work, but don’t outright lie. He has a sense of honour. He might protect your mother, because, she’s his employer, but I’ve seen he genuinely cares about her in his own way for all she would be happy to see him gone. He might feel the same towards you.”

“Would you lie to him?”

“Not about this,” Adil answers. “Or not unless you asked me to. I had to practically beg him for my job, and I have the feeling certain other people might have had a hand in persuading him. But once I received it, he’s always been a very fair boss.”

Unable to help his sigh, he nods. “So, it’s decided, then? I’ll talk to him, and hopefully, he can get rid of D’Abberville without others finding out what D’Abberville knows.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” Adil says.

…

He finds himself nervously tapping his fingers on Mr Garland’s desk, and he wonders if the man is impatient or sympathetic or both.

He really wishes he had such a way of obscuring his own thoughts and feelings.

“Anything you tell me will be in the strictest of confidence.”

“I am-” He has to take a breath. “I am being blackmailed. By, um, by Mister D’Abberville.”

There’s a subtle change to Garland’s face, and he doesn’t know if this is surprising or not to the other man. Is he thinking, ‘I knew this would happen sooner or later,’ or is he thinking, ‘I was foolish to believe this one wouldn’t cause me trouble?’

“What does he want? Money?”

He supposes he shouldn’t be insulted by this question. His mother is rich, Freddie is rich, and for all he doesn’t need his salary to eat, for all he doesn’t have any bills to pay, he himself doesn’t know how much access to the family fortune he could get his hands on if he tried.

“He wants certain classified documents. Information.”

“He’s working with the Germans?” Mr Garland asks in such a way it’s clear he’s remembering the Nazi-sympathising mistress he only recently had to deal with.

All he can do is nod.

“Toby,” and finally, there’s a bit of urgency, a bit of something besides placidness, “we must inform the authorities.”

“It’s- not that simple. I’m not going to give you a name, and if he does, I’d hope you would just- ignore the accusations a man like him would make to slander an innocent person. But, um- I’ve been intimately involved with a member of the staff. This person isn’t- to say my mother would object is a vast understatement.”

“Does he have evidence of this?”

“I’m not sure, but he knows. I wasn’t as careful as I should have been one night, and he saw enough that- I tried to spin a lie, perhaps, ill-advised, it turns out, I’m bloody awful at lying, and he led me to believe he was sympathetic to my affair. That he- It doesn’t matter. He tried to get this person to get the information for him, and instead- instead, here I am.”

“And so, it’s them that he’s directly blackmailing right now, not you?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the urgency of the situation. Soon enough, he will be applying direct pressure to me, and what he might do to-”

Thankfully, he didn’t say ‘Adil’.

It’s too close for comfort, however.

“I agree, this doesn’t decrease the urgency of the situation. You haven’t spoken to Mister D’Abberville about this, have you?”

“No. He doesn’t know, yet, that I know what he’s been up to.”

“Good. Do you- this person, you’re determined to protect them?”

“Yes. It might be incredibly foolish, but it’s love. Real love.”

“On both of your parts?”

“Yes.”

Adjusting his stance, Mr Garland says, “Blackmail relies on the recipient being too scared to act against it, but this person came to you, and you came to me. I will deal with our Mister D’Abberville.”

…

His mother seems to be genuinely grieving, and he has no idea how to help her.

Yet, he can’t help but be relieved. Whatever Mr Garland did, the other man isn’t saying, but it seems D’Abberville has disappeared without a trace.

“I assure you, he won’t be a problem for you and your- paramour,” Mr Garland assured him.

… He’s fairly sure Garland wouldn’t have killed or imprisoned D’Abberville.

Now, sitting in Adil’s room, he’s told, “Quit scowling. I have more potatoes than you do.”

“Fish is more filling than potatoes, and you’ve practically given me-”

“No.” Adil moves away before he can transfer any of the fish over to Adil’s plate. “I don’t know if Mr Garland suspects me or not. From what I can tell, he hasn’t been trying to figure out who you’re involved with, but then, he’s so discreet, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he’s simply going about it too carefully for anyone to notice he is.”

“On the one hand, I hope to God he isn’t,” he says. “However, if he isn’t- what if I were taking advantage of someone? What if someone were taking advantage of me?”

“I imagine he believed you when you said it was an affair based on mutual affection.”

He doubts this. _He_ wouldn’t believe such a thing without proof, and he imagines Mr Garland is much the same. More likely, if Garland isn’t trying to quietly figure things out, it’s because he simply doesn’t care. Let his employer’s son possibly get some unmarried girl in a fix or allow an immigrant such as Adil to be potentially coerced, and if it needs to be dealt with in the future, then, so be it.

For all his mother doesn’t like Mr Garland, having someone so cold manage things for her- for all she doesn’t like it when _he_ is what she deems too cold, she must find it easier to tolerate Garland’s continuing employment due to having such a tool at her disposal.

“You’re not going to get me to eat by refusing to yourself,” Adil’s voice cuts into his thoughts. “I’ll get some foil from one of the neighbours and send you back to the Halcyon with it.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking. It does smell delicious.” Beginning to eat, he finds it tastes even better.

“When the war’s over, I was thinking I could make you biryani. If you don’t like it, I can always give it to Miss Rogers.”

“Assuming she survives the war.”

“I have more faith in her health than you do.”

“It’s not her health I don’t have faith in. That woman would smack Adolf Hitler and our prime minister and probably my own brother across the face with her granddaughter’s heeled shoes if she could get close enough, and if she couldn’t, she’d simply throw the shoe. And then, as she was being hauled off to jail or execution, she’d demand they pay for a new pair of shoes for her granddaughter.”

“Grandniece, but yes, I see your point. Again, I’m sorry for-”

“Adil.” He can’t help but laugh. “It’s really rather funny.”

Biting his lip, Adil shakes his head.

“Go on, it’s alright to laugh. You protected me.”

Instead of laughing, however, Adil looks at him with such softness.

“Tell me about biryani.”

Adil does, and based on the half-shy, expectant look Adil gives him, he knows it’d likely be best to simply say he looks forward to trying it someday, but he feels compelled to respond, “Aside from fish, which, depending on who’s talking, may or may not fit the classification, you don’t eat meat.”

Giving him a patient look, Adil shrugs. “My father eats meat, and my mother doesn’t, not even fish. It was Baba who taught me how to cook.”

“What about your sisters?” At Adil’s confused look, he expounds, “What do they eat? Do they take more after your mother or father?”

A fond smile crossing Adil’s face, he answers.

…

“Thank you.” He wants to kiss Adil, but they both just ate fish, him more than Adil.

“Stay,” Adil says. “Please.”

It surprises him, and the way Adil says it, almost pleading, makes him come close to automatically agreeing.

“Some other night. I have to meet my mother for breakfast or she’ll-”

“I’ll set the alarm for early. Toby, please, stay. Just for sleep, if that’s all you want. I just want to feel you in my arms tonight.”

Giving into his own desire, he kisses Adil, and soon, they end up on the bed.

There are times he hates his own mind, especially now, but he still feels compelled to pull away. “I know this isn’t- but the sheets-”

Grabbing his face, Adil kisses him, and then, continuing to work at his belt, Adil says, “I have a clean set for the bed, Toby, _please_.”

He lets his hands go down to Adil’s trousers.

…

Afterwards feels much like the first time. Almost everything inside feels largely, frighteningly fragile, but at the same time, there’s a sense of strength he used to wish he could feel back when he was a child. Despite the fragility, there’s hope, a feeling everything will be alright, and along with it, taking in Adil’s face and spent body, undeniable pride.

“You’re the only one for me, now,” Adil mumbles.

He almost says, ‘Don’t say that, neither of us knows for sure what this war might end up doing to or taking from us,’ but thinking better of it, he kisses Adil before starting to tug him up. “Right now, you’re the only one for me, too. Come on. I have to get cleaned up, and you’ll wish you had if you don’t.”

“I suppose you have a point,” and with a groan, Adil goes with the tugging.

They get clean.

He can’t sleep in his clothes tonight, and none of Adil’s undershirts fit him properly, but he does put on a pair of Adil’s pants.

Then, finding his trousers, he digs a pair of socks out of his pocket.

Giving him a look, Adil asks, “Why do you have those with you?”

“I might have had some idea of hiding them here before I left,” he admits, and at Adil’s laughter, he adds, “Oh, shut up. You knew I was- me long before you ever kissed me.”

Awkward, prickly, he’s also been called haughty and self-important.

He starts drying Adil off.

“Yes,” Adil agrees with a kiss. “And that’s why I finally had to.”

He puts the socks on Adil. “Here. Say your prayers.”

Adil nods, and he gets in Adil’s bed.

Once Adil is done, Adil starts to wrap the sheet around him.

“Don’t, you need-”

“Toby.” Adil brings a hand to Adil’s skin. “See? I’m plenty warm. If I get cold, I can get under later.”

Finishing wrapping him up, Adil sets the alarm, and then, turning off the lights, Adil gets in bed.

He’d almost forgotten how good it feels.

Nevertheless, the knowledge of D’Abberville, wherever he is, knowing about him having nightmares makes itself fresh in his mind.

“If I have a bad dream, I’m leaving.”

“Please, don’t.” Adil presses even closer against him. “I’m sorry, Toby. I promise I’ll never tell anyone you have occasional nightmares again.”

Everything is calm and peaceful.

Unlike some children, he was never truly afraid of the dark at night, but he’s always been more at-ease when there’s some light somewhere. Adil has blackout curtains, but he’s discovered having Adil next to him makes the uneasiness of the darkness much less.

Feeling Adil isn’t yet asleep, he finds himself saying, “When the war’s over, I was thinking of getting my own flat somewhere. Probably near the Halcyon. We could share costs, split the rent, something. I doubt it’ll be long before you manage to get a promotion, not if Mr Garland is a truly fair, sensible man. It might be a little odd, but it wouldn’t be too outrageous for people to accept.”

Making a small, pleased noise, Adil kisses his neck.

“We’d have to have two beds for when anyone stopped by, but it’d be nice to have our own bed. Bigger than this one, probably smaller than the one at the Halcyon. A better mattress. I could change the sheets.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Adil quietly says. “And I could make us both breakfast every morning. Lunch.”

“I could probably learn how to cook. You shouldn’t have to make all the meals all the time.”

Chuckling, Adil kisses him. “I love you, Toby.”

“I love you, too, Adil.”

Suddenly ready for sleep, he feels Adil is, too, and he lets it come.


End file.
